


Travelling Companions

by sheron



Series: Writer Peggy AU [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: AU - Writers, Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Misunderstandings, Veterans, Writer Peggy, Writers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7269154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/pseuds/sheron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy Carter is an established writer taking the train home from her book-signing, when she notices a man reading one of her books published under a male pseudonym. Jack has a rather low opinion of her work. It's not a start of a beautiful friendship. (Modern day AU).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Travelling Companions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).



> This can be read as completely gen or not, whichever you prefer, it's certainly meant to be open to all kinds of possibilities.

_What did he think of it?_

Peggy had been surreptitiously glancing at the man sitting across from her for the past hour, before sliding her gaze back to her mobile phone to cover her interest. They shared the coupe on the train, seats facing each other and separated only by a small table. He was blond, hair neatly parted to the left and impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit with a matching tie, expensive shoes and a Rolex on his wrist completing the look. His nose was buried in a paperback book. 

It was the book that had caught Peggy's attention. _Her_ latest book, the front cover screaming of "Engrossing Murder Mystery!" and "New York Times Best-Seller!": accolades that still thrilled Peggy to see on something she had written.

The man had been turning the pages avidly ever since the train took off over an hour ago. He'd pause on a page and snort, occasionally shaking his head before moving on. Eventually, just as they were rolling into the New York city proper, Peggy couldn't bear it any longer.

"Are you a mystery fan?" 

The man glanced up at her question, and she felt his eyes pass over her dress and gloved hands with an expensive bracelet of her watch peeking out before settling on her face. His lips curled in a player's smile.

"Hello," he said, grey eyes amused as they met her brown ones. _Damn_ , he was cute. Knew it, too. "Mystery fan: yes. This?" He negligently threw the book to the table to indicate his opinion of it. Any thought of his looks vanished. Peggy's eyes followed the book's trajectory until it smacked the table, and she pressed her lips together, willing her face not to reflect any of the inner emotion that rose up. Her heart and soul had gone into writing that book and to see him dismiss it so casually felt like dismissing the late nights she'd spent pouring the words into a computer, for all the world to read. She'd published it under a man's name: David Lee Harding. Critics had appreciated the story, calling it a "stellar" new work in the genre, reminiscent of Agatha Christie. 

"Is it not any good?" Peggy's mother would have been proud of the cultured British tone of her question. She even threw in a benign smile, although she was seething inside.

"It's alright." He leaned back, spreading one arm across the back of the cushy leather seat behind him and thoughtlessly twirled a glass in front of him, half-an-inch of whiskey from the smell. He'd poured it from a private flask at the start of the ride, and had been lazily rotating the glass, sloshing the liquor back and forth while he read, never even tasting it. "The author's a fan of war culture. Half the book is about this man's struggle getting over his combat experience. He and I have a philosophical difference: it's not very realistic."

"Oh?" Having been recruited at a young age into counter-intelligence where she'd picked up a lot of the know-how that went into writing the book, Peggy felt rather proud of her unbiased approach to both sides of the story, soldier and civilian. The apparent lack of realism was news to her.

"Take the main guy, for example," he looked sour, "He's supposed to be this grand detective, _oooo_!" The man waved his hands in the air, but lazily ― everything he did seemed half-hearted or calculated to look as such, "But he can't even see what's right in front of him. The shrink did it."

"Maybe he doesn't have your vantage point?" Peggy said. She'd put enough red-herrings in her murder mystery's text to make the case solvable, but it had never seemed like her hero was unintelligent. She'd prided herself on that.

"The guy's just unreal," the blond man said. Then he seemed to pause and catch himself. "I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself: my name is Jack."

"Peggy," she answered, somewhat reluctantly handing her hand across the table to be shaken.

"Maybe they based the character on someone they knew?" she added.

"What?" He'd been staring and looked confused for a moment about the subject of her question. "Oh." Jack rubbed his chin. "It's not complete tripe, the action is good and the way this guy flashes back to Iraq, that must have taken a lot of research." He looked at her from his college-educated, upper-crust existence that clearly didn't include any life experience with 'action' whatsoever. Peggy clutched the table with her gloved hands to keep her composure in the face of his gall at judging someone's work so frivolously.

"Maybe the author has seen combat," Peggy said archly.

The man, Jack, snorted. "And come away from it such an idealist?" He shook his head. "No way. This character, a guy who supposedly lost a leg and hobbles everywhere, should be a broken mess, not a case of Pollyanna who can get a homeless vet to spill his secrets just by making a speech. This S.O.B. went to war and came home wanting a _hug_." Jack's lips curled in derision.

Peggy, who'd had the real Daniel stay on her couch on more than one occasion just to let him talk about his time in Iraq and hold his hand so he'd fall asleep afterward, thought a lot of the problems veterans had on coming back from combat was attitudes like the one she was faced with now. How dare he presume? The lack of sympathy, compassion or even basic humanity in front of her was infuriating. 

"Well, don't let me keep you from finishing the book." She returned to watching the world through the train window, because one jackass' opinion wasn't going to ruin her entire day.

"It can wait," Jack said, indifferently. Grey eyes caught hers glancing up and kept at it until she faced him again. "You headed into Manhattan?"

Wryly, "Well done, Mr. Detective." That was the final destination of their train and Jack was clearly headed into the city, too. The train had slowed already, so they were arriving in a few minutes. Peggy was coming back from a book-signing in Philadelphia where people actually appreciated her work.

He laughed. "Fair enough. You caught me, I'm trying to keep you talking. Is someone meeting you?"

She arched a brow. Jack stared innocently back. He had to sense she wasn't interested in taking this further, so his conversation would only serve to annoy her. But he seemed perfectly happy to try chatting her up anyway.

"Only my roommate." She tried to return to scenery-watching, but he was talking again and with a slight internal sigh, Peggy listened, working on keeping her temper in check.

"My folks live on the East Side. I'm headed to see them."

"Mmm," Peggy said, picking up her purse, the only piece of luggage with her.

He didn't need much more encouragement to keep talking about himself. "My father's been asking me to visit. Says he has a place for me at his friend's venture. I figure, I might as well see about that job."

"You are unemployed?" Peggy said even as she dropped her mobile into her purse, ready to leave. Jack looked to be about her age, late twenties, well past college and 'finding yourself' stage. Daniel had to get by with disability payments at times because the job market was rough, and this man was throwing away with both hands the luck that smiling fortune had bestowed upon him.

"Never had a job." Jack smiled blithely. "Too much responsibility."

Their train was coming to a stop.

Peggy stood. All the anger she'd been feeling came to the fore. She took the drink he'd been twirling and drank it in one gulp, ignoring how it burned her throat as she slammed the empty glass on the table. Jack gaped at her, stunned.

"You speak about war and philosophy, but it's all talk to you. I look and I see a boy, not a man. An aimless boy without any direction or appreciation for the sacrifices brave men and women have made to give you the peaceful life you waste. Like you were wasting that drink." He stared unfocused at the now empty glass. "Goodbye."

She strode out before she could hear a witty response.  


 

* * *

 

Peggy threw her purse on the armchair and went to collapse on her sofa, afterward kicking her high-heeled shoes off.

There was a noise in the kitchen and Daniel came shuffling out. He had taken off his artificial leg and was navigating with the help of the kitchen counter, one of his hands full with a steaming coffee cup.

"You're back?" he said. His hair was in utter disarray. Daniel grabbed the crutch standing by the wall outside their kitchen and leaned heavily on it.

They'd long since dispensed with formalities, and she felt comfortable unclasping her bra under the dress to lie more comfortably on the couch, resting her feet. After Angie had moved out to live with her wife and Daniel needed a place to crash when Violet threw him out, Peggy had offered to split the rent and here they were, one year later. He still hadn't moved out, and Peggy didn't mind one bit. It was comfortable, having someone she trusted to come home to. Everyone said they'd end up married eventually, and it was true that they clicked, but there was too much water under the bridge between them. Some late nights she thought about him, but their friendship was worth more than a half-hearted fumble in the dark.

"Nggh," she said, grabbing one of the decorative pillows and putting it over her face.

"And how was your ride?"

"Ugghhhn."

"That bad?"

Peggy removed the pillow away to set it against her stomach.

"I met a preposterous man on the train back. He didn't think people like you existed, can you believe it?"

"Well, I _am_ pretty unbelievable," Daniel quipped, settling carefully against a nearby table so he could sip his coffee and talk to her.

"He went on and on about the lack of realism in my book and― and― _absurd_ things." She gripped the pillow, nearly tearing the material, "I didn't tell him half of what was on my mind. It makes me mad when people talk about the sacrifices you've made, that so many soldiers have made in the war without any gratitude."

"I'm touched."

"In the head," she said automatically, their usual banter easing some of the tightly coiled fury she'd been feeling.

"Peggy, I know this is personal, after the way you lost Michael, but you can't let what some jerk says get to you like that. You always tell me: their opinions don't matter."

She sniffed. Sighed. Remembered why she'd based her main character on Daniel and spoke after a moment, "That's very sensible of you to say."

"That's right. I'm a new man. A _sensible_ man."

Peggy looked up. "A sensible man who hasn't forgotten about the AA meeting tomorrow?

"Yeah, yeah." He nodded. "Are you gonna show? They like it when you come to visit, you know? You're always welcome."

"Maybe," she said. After his divorce was finalized a year after he got back from Iraq, Daniel hadn't been completely on the wagon as far as integrating into the society went. Peggy had set him up with the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings after finding him passed out on the couch one afternoon still clutching the bottle, and even though he was sober now, Daniel still went back for the feeling of community. It helped to know there were people like him, even if most weren't vets. Sometimes she accompanied him, but hearing people talk about their grief and pain wasn't an easy way to spend the evening, much though she wanted to be there for Daniel. It brought too much of her own past back in a way that was difficult to push down. She'd never drank to cope, she buried herself in her work instead. Which made her think that Daniel was right, and she was taking this affair with the criticism of her book and beloved characters too seriously. She had overreacted, made it personal when to Jack it had been just fiction. Peggy winced and tried to put him out of her head.

"I should have time after the book-sighing Ana's organizing at Barnes & Noble. I'll pop in."

Daniel smiled and sipped his coffee before kicking off a slow, shuffling trek to his bedroom. 

After watching him go, Peggy stared at the ceiling and thought about how unfair it was that some men got the packaging: working arms and legs, a pretty face and stormy grey eyes, and an easy ride through life, while others who deserved far better had to grunt and huff with effort just to get through an average day.  


 

* * *

 

Peggy hadn't been sure she's make it to Daniel's AA meeting in time, but hurried along hoping to at least catch the end of it. Ana Jarvis was an effusive personality, and while Peggy enjoyed her company and appreciated her skills as a publicist, after several hours of signing people's books and keeping up the smile on her face she felt undeniably beaten down. She would have much preferred to retire for the evening and relax by herself with a book. Still, a friend in need was a friend indeed. She strode up the stairs and down the familiar hallway of a drafty building that had seen better days.

She smiled at Rose, sitting at her desk in front of the door to the hall, keeping the peace as always.

"Are they inside?" Peggy whispered.

Rose nodded and quietly let her in, so she wouldn't disturb the proceedings.

They sat in a circle, facing each other, it was a 'discussion and sharing' type meeting that evening. People of all ages, all of them needing to not feel alone in their fight. Daniel was leaning his chin on one arm having listened to the last speaker who had just finished her story, lost in thought. He nodded at Peggy when he saw her come in, but otherwise didn't react. A fan was rotating slowly overhead, creating some much needed movement of air inside the stuffy room.

Peggy was about to take one of the empty seats when her eyes fell on a familiar figure, slouching in the seat to the left. He was sitting with his back to her, but even so she recognized Jack immediately. Peggy froze, one hand still and indecisive on the door. What was he doing away from his no-doubt grand east-end family home in a poor-man's AA?

"We have a new person with us today," Colleen was saying from her place in their circle, "Let's have a round of applause for Jack."

Everyone applauded, even Daniel. Peggy stepped further into the room to make sure, but it really was him, looking just as he did on the train, slouching in the chair in a different expensively-cut suit and polished black shoes. 

"Thanks," Jack said, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed.

"Would you like to say anything?" Colleen prompted.

"Ah." He paused. "How does this go?" he laughed, with a touch of bitterness that Peggy hadn't heard in his voice before: "My name is Jack and I'm an alcoholic." He looked around the room with a little smile playing on his lips, "It's been..." ― he checked his watch ― "Fifteen hours since my last drink."

Peggy's hand let go of the door she'd been holding, and it clicked audibly shut. Jack startled and sat up straight in his chair, whirling around to face her.

"Sorry," Peggy said into the dead silence, wincing internally. Then, while the group was saying hello to her, she went and took an empty seat next to Daniel, across from Jack. His grey eyes tracked her to the chair, and she had to force herself to meet them. He looked...blankly surprised.

"Peggy is a regular here," Colleen explained, "You can feel completely safe speaking around her, she is best-mates with Daniel."

Peggy placed one hand on Daniel's arm in support of that. Jack's eyes flickered between Peggy and Daniel, and ran over the crutch and the way Daniel sat with his artificial leg extended. She watched him reflect on the conversation they'd had on the train and felt a sort of unholy triumph. It was marred by the discomfort she felt over having walked in on him, speaking. It had to be harder to keep going with her in the room. She thought about leaving, but that wouldn't help anything either.

"Jack," Colleen interrupted their stare-off, "please continue when you are ready. You've had a drink recently? Why did you feel like doing that?"

Jack looked down with that same half-smile, so easily mistaken for contentment or unconcern, but which Peggy was beginning to think was actually a coping mechanism.

"Mostly because I feel like a total waste of space." His words were conversational, just the same tone he'd carried on with on the train. The hollow meaning behind what he was saying hit Peggy in the gut.

A murmur passed through the crowd hearing the words, not an unusual sentiment in these parts. Miriam, a stocky, short headmistress from a nearby school that had been sitting to the left of Jack said, in what she thought was a reassuring manner: "It gets better." She seemed pleased when Jack nodded and smiled back, as expected.

"Why don't you tell us a little more about yourself," Colleen prompted. "All of us want to get to know you, Jack." An agreeable murmur went around the room. 

Peggy didn't join in, but it was her that Jack looked at as he said, "You mean why I started drinking?" It was interesting that his mind went there immediately. Colleen had meant more of a general story or that week's happenings, but a lot of people assumed that they were there only to speak about the disease, that it was the one thing about them worth talking about. Jack continued, "I enlisted after college." He shrugged, like it was just a thing you did. "Afghanistan. Shit went down." Jack paused, and with difficulty pressed the next words out, "After I got back, I was different and everyone else was the same. Everyone wanted me to be that same guy they knew. And I guess I just couldn't take it. I wasn't strong enough."

A lot of words came from the group after that, words of sympathy and understanding from Colleen who'd lost her brother to a roadside IED, and chiming in agreements from the rest of the group who had spoken of their own ordeals earlier. Daniel said a few words about his own experience as a vet, prompting one of the sweet old ladies in the group to spontaneously walk over and involve Daniel in a half-embrace. Jack watched all this with a disturbingly blank face. Peggy remembered his unfocused look on the train before she'd walked out; the glass of whiskey he'd been twirling. Even though it wasn't entirely her fault, Peggy felt like she'd trampled all over someone's carefully tended flowerbed.

After the energy in the room wilted down and Colleen called an end to the meeting, everyone stood in a circle holding hands with the person next to them, promising to look forward to the future and to keep in touch. Then people began to disperse. Jack stood uncertainly next to his chair, separate from the mingling groups that all knew each other, looking like he didn't know what to do with himself. After a moment he grabbed his coat hanging off the chair's back, decisively starting to put it on.

Peggy strode over to him.

"I suppose we started on the wrong foot. I'd like to make it up to you." 

She extended her hand.

Jack looked at her hand blankly, then at her, studying her carefully, almost shrewdly, while he finished straightening his coat's lapels. She left her hand in the air until he took it. His hand was clammy with sweat.

She squeezed his hand saying, "I'm Peggy Carter. I hear you're a fan of mysteries."

"I'm sensing I'm looking at one now," Jack murmured, throwing a somewhat desperate look Daniel's way as though to say: _please explain her to me_. Beside Peggy, Daniel only shrugged and smiled like he didn't know why Peggy ever did anything. She'd let Jack figure out on his own what a lie that naive look actually was.

"Daniel and I are heading to this dinner we know, if you'd like to come with us." She smiled. "We could discuss the merits of crime detectives: I know you've got opinions about that."

Jack hesitated. "If you're asking me out for a drink, I'm afraid I have to decline."

Peggy rolled her eyes. "Don't be obtuse. We'll have tea or coffee, if you prefer it. Daniel is buying."

"I am?" Daniel said, but he picked up on the undercurrents enough to add, "So I am." 

Jack turned to him, eye-brows in the hairline. "Do you always just do what she tells you to?" 

"It's simpler that way," Daniel answered cheerfully. "If you want life advice, man, this is it: do as Peggy says."

Peggy nodded, opening the door and motioning for them to follow. 

Jack considered Daniel's words. He didn't say anything, but he saluted with two fingers and walked with them out the door.

 

* * *

**Fin.**


End file.
